esrosedotblog

I was brought up with scrapple for breakfast or dinner.

This would correctly nail me as a Pennsylvania boy. Specifically in the northeastern part of the State.

It is the product of farming, notably farming where there are pigs.

I am also old enough to have a father who went out to attend pig slaughter at family farms to help out. And there was always a portion handed over for our use. All of the pig people made sausages and scrapple. It is a way to use "everything but the squeal" and also to break up the monotony of eating pork chops, loins, ribs, and all the rest which will taste the same bland way unless we are creative with it.

There is no acquired faste to it. I think.

We will find out tonight. See if a North Carolina boy can handle a northern version of the uses of pig leftovers. Chittlin's it ain't.

Labels: food, Pennsylvania